


Dimensional Fragments

by coreplant



Series: Dimensional Balloons [2]
Category: Outerfell (AU), Outerswap (AU), Outertale (AU), Swapfell (AU), Underfell (AU), Undertale (Video Game), fellswap (au), underswap (AU) - Fandom
Genre: Being Neighbors to Monsters, Bros being confused by Humans, F/F, F/M, Gen, I'm going to be updating these, Implied Relationships, M/M, Moving To The Surface, Multi, References to Irresponsible Dimensional Alignment, Well sort of /Reader, but still gender-neutral, more OC - Freeform, references to booze, references to clubbing, references to safe sex pratices
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-07-23 17:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 9,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16163396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coreplant/pseuds/coreplant
Summary: It's october! So to challenge myself, I'm going to try writing at least a short drabble a day, featuring bits of the world happening around Irresponsible Dimensional Alignment. Some of this will be in the planned future of the fic, some are in the past - so there will be spoilers! And definitely not always in sequence of the timeline. Heads up tho - none of this has a beta reader!Addendum: It's not October anymore, but hell, I'm still going to slap any small ficlet in this universe up here.





	1. Moving Up (UF Grillby)

The news spread through the Underground like wildfire, despite the constant tension and turf wars between the sections of it. Whispered, shouted, _screamed_ over the expanses of old dust and bone-deep grudges. What used to be fights over territory quickly became fighting over the chance to **leave**.

Grillby dusted the first shithead who tried to rob his bar, reducing them to a greasy smear of dust and ash on his bar's floor within seconds. That seemed to work well enough - there were no further attempts. Or even much protest when he locked the doors and left the bar closed within a few days. All the locals were familiar with how short his temper was, and how flirting only _sometimes_ worked to assuage it, or pay off a bill.

He had other things to focus on, and prepare for the trip up. 

It was late in the afternoon of the first day closed that the chill at his core finally caught up to him, leaving him shuddering and flaring next to the outer wall, his mind whirling with memorie-

 

_It had been raining for days, just endless water that stung and bit and threatened the younger fire elementals. They were cowering in the middle of the mess hall, providing warmth and light for the returning soldiers as long as they didn't intrude on the group, or come closer than the tables nearest them. The tiniest elementals were in the middle of the group, giggly and gleefully playing with the straw underfoot. Such small, precious new lives, none of them old enough to be out of stripes._

_P̷̨̡̨̨̛̛̤̫͇̭̲͉̻͓̮̩̫͇̮͙̞̮̤͙͒͗̎͒̃̑̋̎̆̍͆͑͑̊̑́͌̉̇̃̃̅̍̒̏͊̒͆͛̿̾̈̎̅̅͆̆̐̈̌̌̑̈́̑͌̕̚͜͝l̶̨̢̨̛̛̤͎̬̠̤̙̳͖̮̪̜̍̄̋̇̌̓̌̈́̈́͂̓́͋̊̿͒̐͐͑͐́̈̀̈́̌͆̋̉͑̿̑͑̓͗͌̂̇̃͑̓̊̂͘͘̕͘͝͝͝͠͝͝͝ǎ̶̡̨̜͙͓͙̥̦̼̤̝̩̻̣̞͈̗̲̳̩̯̳̭̻̤̗͕̥̣͈̰̺̱̺̗̥͇̲̬̯̙̀̈́͛̂͋̄͊̿̎͊̈̏̐̏̔̌̒̊͑̂͆̽͋͑̈̾̇͛̀͘ş̸̧̡̨̢̣̦͙̩͙̮̬͈̫̪̮̰̦̪͔͈̬̝̻̫̝̲̲̜͎̙̣̙̮̙̰̻̞͈͓̮̙͚̫̹͕̩̩̼̮̆̉̎̐͊͛̎͆̈̀̐̍̊̑̂̋̊̀̂̕͜͜͝ͅm̴̢̢̧̧̢̨̧̛̞͚͙̭̩̪̹̝̮̤̟̰̩͖̘̫͇̬̗̫͕̪̗͇̭̪̹̳̼͔̰̞͈̜͓̠̟͖̗͉̳̣͖̼̱̱̱͑̈̈̇̓̈́͗͊̃̊͐̈́̌͌̅̅͗̈́̔̋͊̀͊̽̅̋͂͋̊̀͌͛̈́̐̎̉̄̌̓͘͘͠͠͝ṷ̸̡̧͓̺̞̼̹̰̘̙̩͚̥̬̜̗̺̬̻͈͈̺̲͖̖̯͈̃̄͆͗̋͛̀͒͂̒̆͗͂̿̐͛͊̓̋̄̂̄̏͊̓̀̊̏̍̐͑͑́͆͛͆͒͘̕̕̚̕̚͘͜͜͠͝͠͝͠ͅş̶̡̛̛͓̺̲̺̦̟̣̟̲̣͎͈̫̖̥̖̋̓̏̓̂͆̿́͂̌̈͊̓̔̃̏̎̀̇͗͑̈́̅̏̌͌̍͛̀̔͐͌̈͐̂̊̊̍͒̚̕̚̚͝͝͠ had been watching them until that midnight raid - the humans had flushed out the unit and the soldiers fled here. As he stared up at the tent top, he realized the **humans were here** as a large stone ripped through the tent and crushed a poor Loox. Dust and screams were in the air as the soldiers rushed to respond, and the civilians mixed among them tried to run **away**._

_Dust._

_Flames out of control._

_Screaming that swirled through his head and sank his soul with cold._

_Then blackness chasing a sharp pain to the back of his head._

 

 

Grillby came to on the floor of his storage room, roused by the piercing cry coming from somewhere else in the building. Groaning with remembered pain, aching with the echo of the past, the old elemental slowly pulled himself back to his feet. And cringed when the crying hit a particularly piercing note that rang through his head. If this was what a hangover was like, maybe he should stop teasing Sans about his . . 

Enh, maybe.

Shuddering, Grillby felt the ripple shift through his flames, shifting as she struggled to regain her poise. Right, this helped last time. Absently she reached for and adjusted her belt, unbuckling and pulling some slack into place before before refastening it. She crossed the hallway that lead to the back door, fishing out the key that hung on a chain around her neck to unlock the door on the other side before remembering she had deliberately left it unlocked after securing the doors leading outside. There was only one thing on that side of the hallway - her home, and her most precious, well-guarded secret.

Inside the apartment, the crying was all the louder, shrill with the mix of fear and upset only the very small and helpless can experience. 

Grillby paused just inside the doorway, crooning a soft, reassuring crackle as she quickly shed her rings and jewelry, barely taking a moment to lock the door behind herself. The apartment was as opulent as the Underground could manage - the most high-quality furniture that could be made from the Dump and what scarce resources could be grown down here. There were no lights, but then, only Grillby and two others were ever back here. One never left, and was wailing as they reached out small hands towards Grillby, stretching their arms longer than they should in clear upset.

Chucking her shirt absently towards the couch, Grillby quickly swept them up into her arms and cuddled them close, rubbing the small elemental's back soothingly. "It's all right, Frye, it's all right. Mada's here. Shhh."  
The tiny elemental cuddled into the crook of Grillby's neck, still whimpering and fussing. Without a protest, Grillby crooned softly to her child, not minding the long task ahead.

She could wait, and prepare. All the work was worth it, to keep Frye safe.


	2. Moving On Up - Part 2 (UF Grillby, UF Sans, OC Frye)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby gets a surprise - or perhaps not so surprising - visitor. Some bargaining, some negotiating, and some reminiscence.

"ey, grillbz? ya home?"

Grillby didn't bother to bristle at the sudden voice, though her gaze snapped up to the doorway it came from. Good, the runt skeleton remembered to arrive in the kitchen, not anywhere else in the apartment. Rising to her feet, she strode over to the doorway - one arm still holding Frye to her chest. Sans was already going through the fridge, one elbow holding the door open as he took the last bottle of mustard out. Grillby scowled, putting more irritation into the expression than she was currently feeling. "You're paying for that."

Sans jolted at the sound of her voice, skull abruptly jolting around to stare over his outstretched arm at Grillby. His eyelights flickered down to scan her body, and . . . much to her inward surprise, rose straight back up to her face. Very at-odds with the perverted skeleton Grillby had known for decades. Maybe there was something to the rumor he was sweet on that human.

The skeleton shrugged slightly, then nodded. "right. here to pay off part of the tab anyways - addin' a little bit more on it isn't going to change much." His eyelights flickered a few times, before shrinking slightly and fading to simple white. Grillby's own eyes widened in surprise. Sans only did that when he was being _absolutely honest_ and even vulnerable. They idly bounced Frye a little in their grasp, holding the little elemental as they tried to turn around to look at the new voice.

Sans' perpetual grin widened into a genuine one as small naked bundle of pink flames _beamed_ at seeing him, crackling happily. Grillby let out a disgruntled hiss at that, a few pops snapping through the air as Frye ignored her irritation. "Wonderful. Stop corrupting my child, Sans."

"ey, nothin' wrong with them likin' their babysitter, now is there." The short skeleton nodded towards the living room, before pausing and gesturing towards the table. "got a lot to lay on ya, grillbz. lots changed up there. thinkin' this should be good for 'bout half of the tab, yeh."

It took a few hours, resulted in Sans stripping to the waist in order to hold Frye for the last hour, and a pause to feed the infant a bottle of home-brewed absinthe and a few spoonfuls of powdered coal. Frye was asleep in Grillby's arms again as Sans- _Crim_ finished up the last bits. And damnit, he was right - this was worth at least half of the tab being paid off. _Especially_ with the news of this other Grillby. And of the technology up there, the phone he had shown a sneakily taken picture of the other elemental was leagues beyond Alphys' work in many ways. 

Frye popped and crackled happily in their parent's arms, blinking sleepily out at nothing as they snuggled in.

" . . an' he's got the damndest habit o' drinkin' _ketchup_ , can ya believe it?" The fond amusement in Crim's voice snagged Grillby's attention. " . . . cheating on Frisk already?"

"fuck you! the hell i am! . . . " Crim rubbed his phalanges over his skull, a deep red flush spreading out from his cheekbones. " . . he's just cute. s'all. sweetheart thinks so too."


	3. Cinnamon Roll (UT Papyrus, UT Sans)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The surface is AWESOME! There's so many humans to encourage, Papyrus is popular! And he's been getting so many phone numbers! Usually on napkins, for some reason . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus is such an innocent bean! . . . at least at first.

Life was good on the surface! There was plenty of sunlight, plenty of humans to make friends with, and plenty of space to stretch out! And so many new things! Sure, he didn't have a car (yet), but there was so much to explore just within the short expanse of his neighborhood!

Yes, life was good for the Great Papyrus!

Pausing at the top of the hill - it was only five miles from his new home, a perfectly respectable morning jog - he took a deep breath, hands on his hips. The air was sweet and crisp, only faintly smelling of car exhaust and eucalyptus. It was a little cool, a little damp-feeling, the light was just right . . and his pockets were crinkly? Checking provided multiple small pieces of paper, scribbled with numbers and names. Some were very illegible.

"AH! MORE POTENTIAL FRIENDS FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS!"

With a gleeful little giggle, he started putting them into his phone as he leisurely jogged back towards home. Of course he sent off a 'good morning from the Great Papyrus' text to each and every one! It was only polite! He was midway through the papers when he started getting texts back.

It was two hours past dawn, and Sans hadn't been woken up for breakfast. He had even woken up _on his own_ (if only half an hour later than the usual time Papyrus woke him). And the silence in the house had made him uneasy. Pulling on clothes ~~praise the inventor of velcro~~ didn't take as long as usual, with that unease pushing him along.

Sans quickly checked the upstairs loft (no Paps), before moving on to the rest of the small house they were renting. The kitchen. The garage. The office.

No sign of Paps.

Just a cheery little note of 'gone for a jog' on a coffee mug that was now lukewarm at best. Immediately the worst scenarios leapt to mind, sending magic flooding through his body in the vast urge to just _go_ , teleport to his brother . . . who he had no idea of where he was. Ignoring the coffee, Sans started for the front door. Maybe he could try cruising through the neighborhood to find where Paps had gone.

He was nearly there when the door opened quietly.

Not with a bang.

Not with a shout.

Not with anything more dramatic than a puzzled, worried frown, and Papyrus asking softly:

"Brother? Is It Normal For Humans To Proposition Strangers For Sex?"


	4. Nice Treats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burgerpants is baffled by the power of the human sweet tooth. The Nice Cream guy is just plain tired.

"Right, so humans are buying you out _every day_?"  
BP gave his long-standing ~~crush~~ Best Friend a disbelieving stare. "I mean, I believe you buddy, just . . it's the middle of winter? Aren't they way more sensitive to cold than we are?"

Nick just gave a tired smile, shrugging a little as he started up the ice cream maker again. A little bit of ice magic, careful mix of flavorings, and he'd have another batch ready to pour into the moulds and pop in the freezer in a few minutes. One of his blue ears drooped a bit, nearly brushing his bangs as he tried to focus on the task at hand.

BP stared at Nick for a long moment, his gaze softening as he took in the signs of exhaustion. The droop of the tall rabbit's ears, the deepening shadows under his eyes - he was being extra-careful and slow about how he moved. As he moved to lift the finished batch of nice-cream-to-be, BP something move his hands before he could think about it, blurting out, "Here, I'll pour it out and put it in the freezer. Take a moment to relax buddy."

"But-"

"But nothin' - I can handle this part, buddy. Worked at that damn burger joint for three years, remember?" And BP very firmly ignored how Nick had half-risen, reaching out to take the _very cold_ mixing basin back. He kept his back towards Nick as he carefully poured out the Nice Cream, moving quickly to insert the sticks mid-pour. Did pretty good, in his opinion!

Nick sat down again with a heavy 'whumpf' as it sank in that, like it or not, BP was going to help out tonight. After a moment, he smiled, and decided to not mention that some of the sticks had been inserted backwards.


	5. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> . . . .

Their job had been _simple._

Keep the air moving - move it around and around, carrying the water melted off of Snowdin to rain in Waterfall, push the hot air from Hotland out into New Home and towards Snowdin. Move it, mix it, push it towards the few holes in the caverns where outside air seeped in slowly, so slowly, through the barrier.

They could have left.

If they'd been willing to spend the years upon centuries risking being pulled too fast through the barrier rather than seeping through.

 

They hadn't found the risk worth it.

 

But it had been a tempting thought that had grown more tempting as the centuries wound on. Not because of the being trapped, but because of what was _happening_ to their fellow monsters. The hope. The loss. The madness of the Royals.

And what is a Queen or King but the heart of the Kingdom?

In their hurt and fury their subjects had grown cold and callous, had become maddened with their own hopelessness. Taking solace in the threat and promise of power, of LOVE. They heard and mourned each cruel law, each patch of dust they had to blow through the caverns and scatter. Almost all had LOVE, and there was almost no love left.

 

Almost none.

 

But . . . it was still there. Hidden in small, private places. Trapped between shields outside of homes, only expressed in secure homes, when no one else could hear of it. It still existed.

 

 

_then the door to the ruins opened_

 

 

there was only dust and emptiness left

even the footsteps had eventually ceased

they no longer moved air to the throne room, or the room Beyond

 

they did not go near the cavern floors anymore


	6. Chapter 6

It was five years since the breaking of the barrier, and only three years after moving the Machine that Sans managed to get it to work. It had taken him another year to figure out the pattern in the data it was observing, recording, and a few months more to really get a grip on what it was tracking. It had been recording _something_ , but what the data **meant** had been difficult to determine.

Sans had nearly lost hope entirely - the Machine wasn't for sidestepping dimensional layers. He couldn't somehow bring back his father, ~~who he missed~~ make him answer for dumping **everything** on a fourteen-year-old Sans' lap before eventually disappearing from . . everywhere! Even everybody else's memories! Somehow!

Somehow, his father had erased himself almost entirely from existence. But Sans still was there, and so was Papyrus. Sweet, precious, baby bro, who was barely two at the time. ~~And the CORE.~~

He still wanted to punch his old man for that.

Scratching a hand over his skull, Sans continued feeding data into his laptop, frowning as he ground through the mindless, boring work. He'd found an analytics . . ? . . well, a program made by an Analytics Major at the local community college to help track large amounts of data and display them in various graph forms. Frankly, it all formed such a noodley, timey-wimey ball of _nonsense_ viewed as a whole . . .   
"no harm sortin' it out . . . fuck, doin' this to look at it by signature had better pay off. just, nearly a week of this bullshit . . "

Sans glanced over his shoulder at his basement lab, and shuddered. He was a lazy guy, but there was a point (especially now that they'd safely gone beyond the last recorded anomaly point that could be tied to Frisk or Flowey ~~holy hell he hated that flower~~ ) where he just could not stand the accumulation of fast food wrappers and just general garbage. Looking back at the raw printouts, Sans hummed to himself before saving the current data.

And then set the program to do a current sorting analysis and display as . . . enh, scatter graph. That should work. Rolling his eyes at the two hour wait for the laptop to finish, Sans shoved away from his desk. Wandering leisurely over to his beanie bag, the short skeleton flopped down in it, left eye sparking with an inaudible 'ding' as he started floating a trash bag and the trash around the room. Sure, cleaning by hand would be less draining . . but after the last week, he needed to work some magic off. 

Sans frankly didn't like jogging.

So being 'lazy' was his choice of exercise. The way it made his brother scream and flail was just the icing on the cake. The very memory of Paps throwing a fit made him snicker as the bag neatly tied itself off and plopped onto the ground by the basement stairs. There, cleaning done, and as he cast a leisurely glance over at the laptop screen, one hour and fifty-five minutes to go. " . . well fuck. naptime."

 

Two hours later, an obnoxious farting noise stirred Sans from his nap. Blinking blearily, he peered around the room, noting that nothing had moved, or changed, or really altered . . . other than Papyrus standing in a corner next to the washing machine, industriously loading it. The tall skeleton was taking a great deal of care- with the house being a rental, they were stuck with the old washer and dryer built into the basement. Good ones, but not necessarily up to his younger brother's normal vigor and energy. "SANS! YOUR LAPTOP IS FLATULENT!"

"izzat so bro? . . huh, guess i got a virus or somethin'."

"OR SOMETHING. IF YOU WANT YOUR HOODIE WASHED, YOU NEED TO PUT IT IN THE HAMPER. ANYWAYS, I NEED TO GO START PREPARING THE KITCHEN FOR THE NEXT COOKING LESSON! "  
Paps threw his brother a grin as he posed, one hand against his chest, the other on his hip. Accepting Sans' applause as his due, the younger brother 'nyeh-heh-heh'd gleefully up the stairs. Alone again, Sans hauled himself up out of the beanbag chair, and took a shortcut over to his laptop. "right, let's see . . . wait, this doesn't make sense."

Switching between views, he studied the different selection of datapoints. All sorted through by signature, it was easy to see a few things - many had repeat points in the double digits along their timelines, a few in the triple digits.

And one of them, just one, had repetition points he could easily count on one hand. 

Flipping through the eight signatures again, Sans scratched his skull. Still that one that matched _none_ of the others. One where he could visually count how many temporal anomalies it had in a minute. After a long moment, he closed the laptop. A chill shivered down his bones, and left a sour feeling that lingered. 

" . . . wonder what Paps is doing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today I was definitely running late, sorry! Between scheduled events and a bit of indecision on what to write . . well, this took a bit.


	7. Remix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cousins can be closer than people can think - close as twins. And as far apart as the sides of the moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This blurb was inspired by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5pywlN55Iok)! Feel free to let it play while you read! I pretty much had the whole concept pop into my head with little prompting while listening.

_-"You are getting on my nerves, you foolish and annoying child. Get out of my sight or **fight me now!** I am going **WILD!"**_

Maddie smirked with satisfaction, tail bobbing with the beat as she listened to her lyrics play out. Her gloves only faintly muffled the click of silicone on wood as her fingers tapped out in time with the aggressive melody. This was definitely the best of the renditions of her original song . . well, _rant_ from the Underground. Even remembering the reason for it pissed her off!

Growling softly, Maddie tried to refocus.

 

Listen to the song.

 

Appreciate the song.

 

Approve the song.

 

Submit the song to her producers.

 

_Rub her success in Mettaton's **face!**_

Gritting her teeth _carefully_ , she pulled herself back into control, meticulously fluffing up the skirts of her dress. It wasn't the same one as the body originally wore . . . but Alphys had sworn this one suited Maddie better. ~~And the new hair, the new hair, the new _eyes_~~ Taking a deep ~~unnecessary~~ breath and counting backwards to ten, she started filling out the paperwork for submitting the song to the network. 

She was going to do this.

She was going to succeed.

Maddie was going to protect her cousins, and help them in this weird world on the Surface.

 

~~Even if she wanted to rub mud in Mettaton's too-pretty hair and for calling her new look a Hatsune rip-off. He wouldn't be the only superstar in the family!~~


	8. Time Marches On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panic, fear, and awkward first times. No, it's not what you're thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up! Skeleton and Nonbinary human kid dealing with something they have no idea how to handle it or why it's happening! Blood, pain, and generally an unpleasant time. I did try to avoid making this terribly graphic, but it is a serious topic.

The forest around Snowdin was coated in a thicker layer of snow than usual - for once. With the thick snow still so pristine and white, it was easy for a few hours to pretend the world wasn't fucked up, and that maybe his younger brother would run up the path with a happy grin. Like he used to, so many centuries ago.

Before the King's Madness.

The fantasy was tempting - _hell only knew it was intensely tempting to sink into memory_ \- but other things were on Sans' mind as his claws drummed on the surface of his sentry station. It had been a week. A _week_ since the last Reset. The kid usually only took about two, three days tops to get out of the Ruins now. Something was up-

 

"GET UP YOU LAZY WRETCH! SANS! GO ATTEND TO YOUR POST!" Papyrus's voice through the door was a klaxon clear enough to wake the _dead_. The pun would normally make Sans snicker, but jolted awake yet again from a Reset? It was barely worth a smile. He'd been having that thought for . . years now. More or less. 

The feeling of tension outside the door increased. Right, still had a script to stick to. Sans rolled upright, dropping his feet off the side of his bed to stuff them into his sneakers as he yelled back. "yeah yeah, i'm fucking up."

"YOUR FOOD IS ON THE TABLE." And with that Papyrus's footsteps stomped away from the door and faded downstairs. There was no hiding the slam of their front door though - a regular fixture of the morning for the residents of Snowdin. Not that any of the regular residents really believed the act anymore, even though they acted if they did. Better to be seen obeying the King's insane edicts than to risk being executed.

With an annoyed grunt, Sans finished dressing by shrugging on his coat. A few quick shortcuts, and he was at his sentry station, staring up and down the road before digging into his packed food. Resources were scarce, but honestly? His bro was getting pretty damned good at this cooking thing. 

"what the hell?"  
Curiosity gives way to dismay as he regards the very . . assemble-yourself meal that's packed. Roast water sausages, cheese wedge, and soft short loaves? What was this? Usually it was lasagna, quiche, or even every rarely once again a homemade hamburger ~~he _savored_ those rare burgers, the perfect balance of ingredients that even Grillby didn't quite match~~ for his breakfast. Sans was still staring down at his meal when a loud creak broke the frozen quiet of the forest.

 

_The Ruins door was opening already._

 

Leaving the food, Sans stepped out from the sentry station and behind a tree near the doors. He was utterly confused to see anybody leaving early, let alone the kid. They were hunched over, clearly having trouble shoving the door. There were tear tracks down their face, and he could hear their harsh breathing from there. His eyelight went wide, before he shortcutted to their side, quickly moving to catch the kid - and was stunned to find they were not that much shorter than him now. 

The kid moaned, the sound heavy with pain as a new wave of tears poured down their cheeks. "S-sans . . **h-h-hhnnhurts!** "

"where's th' pain-" Sans' voice cut off as he registered what else he was picking up, now that he was at the kid's side. The smell of _blood_. Thick, heavy, and rich in . . a rather weird way that slipped from his mind almost as immediately noticed, panic shoving it off to the side. "SHIT."

Turning, he shortcutted them quick and dirty back to his house in Snowdin, barely noticing the extra drain of bringing a passenger with him. And the kid crumpled, arms wrapped around their lower abdomen. Staggering from the sudden weight, Sans nearly dropped them, and had to wobble them over to the toilet (it didn't work, but Papyrus was insistent it was needed for the proper aesthetic of a bathroom) to sit down. The kid flinched hard at the feel of cold porcelain, then seemed to relax a little with the changed position.

Sans quickly began digging through the mess under the sink, hunting for the First Aid kit he'd stashed there in his second Black Box - using his limited supply of space for chronologically inert records for this had _sucked_ but ultimately paid off in the long run so far. "okay, kid, where ya hurt? whatcha feelin'? who **hurt** ya?"

Frisk gave him an utterly bewildered look, biting back a sob of fear. "It-t . . it just _started_ , it **hurts!** . . . M-mom didn't know, heal-d-din't work, f-food didn't work . . . " They made a vague gesture towards their crotch. "Blood . . . _there_ . . . c-cold all over . . _Sans make it stop!"_

The sheer terror in the poor kid's voice as they started sobbing wrenched at Sans' soul, sending a deep chill through through him as he abandoned the First Aid supplies to wrap his coat around the kid, uncaring if they got tears and snot on it. "cold? let's run ya a bath- . . wait, i-i think . ."

Scrambling through his thoughts, Sans searched through his memories for that faint hint of _something_ . . . and pulled it up. Centuries ago he'd still be heavily into science, still curious enough to read the new books that fell down from the surface. Hell, he'd picked up a new biology book just last month, before all this Reset shit! Cussing loudly, he quickly fumbled the hot water on for the tub, then shortcutted to his room. Digging through his shelves, he was quick to return to the bathroom, flipping through the pages of the water-stained human book.

It soon became apparent that since he didn't know what he was looking for - and Frisk was in no state to help - he'd have to flip through section-by-section to find what's up. The kid was looking less upset, but still teary - until some sort of _spasm_ happened and they balled up around their gut. The smell of blood grew stronger, rattling unpleasantly around Sans' mind as he dropped the book. Hell he hoped this was the right idea. It was the fastest way to warm up a cold human, right?

His worries and fear gnawed at him as he helped the kid out of their clothes - ignoring the scent of blood and _stuff_ staining the leggings, he set those aside to help figure out what was going on - and aided the kid in sitting down in the bath. Within moments of settling into the hot water (almost too hot, they were turning pinkish) the kid started to relax, both of their hands cupped protectively low over their abdomen. Without the bulk of their clothing, it was painfully obvious that their body . . didn't exactly look like the one they had at the start of all this. More curves, for some reason. Frowning before averting his eyes, Sans started flipping through the book.

He'd find the cause, and they'd deal with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personal headcanon - the Soulmate bond between Toriel and Asgore may be permanently strained and thinned out, but it's still influencing them. When Asgore lost his marbles, Toriel started feeling hers slip away. She has good days and bad days, and it changes when from run to run.


	9. Neighbors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little speculation on what it's like living next door to a household of scientifically-inclined skeleton monsters.
> 
>  
> 
> And their brothers.

Gary Welkin had prided himself on being an open-minded man. He'd accepted it (if a bit uncomfortably) when his oldest admitted she was gay. Hell, he'd been proud to walk her down the aisle to her wife, and doted on every one of the grandchildren they'd adopted. He'd accepted it (with a bit more grace) when his only son ended up the sole parent to a bouncing mixed race delight of a grandchild - who in turn revealed they were Nonbinary. The latter bit had been confusing, but he'd done his best to be fair and supportive. They'd been his comfort and support, moving in after his dear wife had passed on a few years ago.

Monsters now, they'd been genuinely _hard_ to be open-minded about. Too many of them resembled old fears of his, straight from tales from his Nanna had told him as a child. But he'd _tried_ , and otherwise kept his distance. He'd been genuinely concerned when that group of skeletons had moved into the house across the street.

 

Nowadays, he kept a couple of tins of popcorn on the porch in what used to be the tinder box, and a little book to keep track of the neighborhood's bets on what was going to happen next. He waved back cheerily when the two sweetest of the household jogged on by, shouting a good morning. It was kinda funny how all them were pairs of siblings, one short, one tall, but mebbe that was just how it worked out with skeleton monsters. Humming cheerfully, Gary settled into the recliner that now lived on his porch, right next to the tinder box and the camera he had pointed across the way.

"heya mr. welkin, ya ready for the day? got yesterday's prints?"  
Gary didn't even jump at the sudden voice next to him, well used to the antics of the two oldest members of the household by now. He just smiled up at the short skeleton, pulling out the envelope he had stuffed under one arm before coming out here. Tapping it against his arm, the old human handed it over with a smile - and smiled wider at the deep red flush that spread over the skeleton's face when he spotted the smaller blue and black envelopes inside the big one. Gary had originally been intimidated by the sharp-toothed skeleton, but seeing how he _doted_ on those he loved (even his jackass of a little brother) had utterly won the old man over. "Right here, Crim. Should be a little more careful about what windows are open tho'."

Gary gave the clearly embarrassed skeleton a chiding, concerned look, before giving a soft 'hrumpf' and turning his attention to double-checking his camera. "Ain't my business what you do with that husband 'n wife o' yours, just remember the front rooms are _very_ visible from the street when the blinds are open."


	10. Preschool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the job you end up in is not the one you planned on. Sometimes, that's all for the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger notes: Reference to a mental breakdown. Very little detail.

It was the first day of school, and Frisk was _so nervous_. They fidgeted through the classroom, double-checking that all the heavy items had been securely put away, that their desk drawers were locked, that every one of the short tables had a stack of paper and plenty of crayons in each of the built-in cups. That the big, easy-to-read name stickers were all ready to be decorated by small hands (or whatever), and that they had printed at least two of each.

Anxiety welled up in them at the first knock on the front door of the building - an old home renovated to suit it's new purpose _perfectly_ \- and Frisk had to swallow down bile before they pulled open the door, slapping a quick smile on their face. Why had learning to smile been _so hard??_

 

They were nearly bowled over by the excited bundle of pink stripes, tulle, and sequins that cannon-balled into their legs, clinging on with all the stubborn tenacity of a limpet. A big, beautiful grin was beamed up at them, the blonde child's green eyes nearly glowing with delight.  
"FRISK-SAN!"

"Come on Tsumugi, let Mx. Frisk walk . . " Fond amusement was clear in the father's voice - Mr. Inuzuka, that was right - as he knelt down to gently pry his daughter off Frisk's legs. Behind him, just coming up the walk was the beaming face of MK, escorting a pair of small drakes. One was tucked under each of his wings in an utterly adorable way. _And there were more adults behind him._

Quite literally Frisk had no more time to actually worry, welcoming in the mix of adults and teenagers as they introduced their charges to her. Each child was introduced, and Frisk did their best to memorize each precious name. It was a relief when each had finished drawing on their name sticker and ran back up to Frisk to have it put on them. In the excitement, the adults and teens quietly slipped away, saying goodbye and more than a few giving kisses.

In the cheerful chaos, Frisk had no time to worry, to linger over old memories. For the old, old anxiety to start gripping them, that urgent feeling that _they were not doing enough_. The feeling that had driven and spurred them on until they'd had a screaming, catatonic fit in the middle of their second year of College ~~they had only been sixteen it had been **too soon** despite all those handful of years experienced over and over~~

until they'd **broken** under the stress they'd put themselves under . . . 

"Frisk-san! Can you help?"  
Tsumugi blinked innocently up at Frisk, utterly unaware of the thoughts she'd jarred them from. One of the little drakes - Poncho, MK's son - wrinkled his nose before gently headbutting Tsumugi's shoulder to get her attention. "Why? They're just Frisk!"

"Nooo . . teacher! Supposed to call teacher 'san'!"  
Frisk felt joy bubble up, despite the incoming squabble brewing. Very gently they plucked the name sticker from Tsumugi's hand, and applied it to the front of the little girl's chest. "Tsumugi is being polite, Poncho - at her old home, 'san' is a polite way to address someone else. Just like how I am Mx. Frisk to your family."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many stories end with Frisk becoming and staying the Monster Ambassador . . but c'mon, isn't it more interesting to have something else happen? :D


	11. Once Chance, Twice Coincidence, Thrice Bullshit Someone's Pulling Strings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's a chance meeting. Sometimes, it's cause your friends are nosy bastards. And sometimes it's because your ex is a manipulative shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please pardon my excessive swearing!

Grillby was utterly torn at the moment - one half of his soul was downright _giddy_ , wanting to dance at the close proximity of his potential Soulmate. The other half was sinking with the dark certainty that his ex was arranging this for her own amusment. He'd tried! He'd honestly tried to make it work with his ex, despite it being a bondless relationship . . they'd grown apart though, and he'd thought the breakup had been amicable.

Then came all the little gestures over the year. Things that started off beneficial, then became a hassle to deal with - like the contract for honey to brew mead, that proved to grow even more problematic with each year that went by due to the contrary nature of the Migosps. Or the deal for catering the booze to a Hotland wedding, where he'd been _asked for by name_ and his ex had arranged the transportation even. Which ended with a third of his stock falling into the river on the trip back home.

It was never directly his ex's fault, but they'd been at the start of so many problems in his life, and now was sitting _right next to_ what could be the very light of his life.

Who was human.

A very pretty, very brightly smiling, blushing, redheaded human. The bright curls were _gorgeous_ , tumbling around the human's head like a spill of soft flames, tempting him to touch and be far more forward than he really should be. Blue-grey eyes like a summer storm-filled sky. So many of those small dots scattered across the skin - freckles, right? 

Grillby had even met them before now - though not long enough to really talk. Just a brief exchange of pleasantries at the grocery store, they'd needed help getting a box down off the top shelf ~~they were so adorably petite and had soft curves he'd wanted to touch even then~~ before having to leave in a rush for some event. He'd learned their name that time - 'Shea'.

Shea had lingered in his thoughts the rest of the week. Not enough that he'd had any trouble, or made mistakes at work, but . . . he'd regretted not trying to arrange for a chance to get to know them better.

Then came the second meeting, just a few days ago.  
On the way home from the bar, Grillby had rushed to the bus stop in front of a summer storm - one of those weird fluctuations in the weather that were rare enough that carrying an umbrella was ridiculous, but still happened. He'd been peering out at the sudden downpour and silently swearing to himself to buy one of those collapsible pocket umbrellas finally, no matter if it was an odd or ridiculous pattern (why couldn't they just be black?) before an umbrella point had nudged itself into his field of view.

And there had been Shea. Smiling a touch shyly as they offered up what was clearly their umbrella, their accent rolling through their words as they insisted he take it so he could get safely home. Grillby had demurred, they'd insisted . . and a long, rambling argument-conversation had unfolded over the next two hours before the storm raged itself out. The evening had ended with him walking them home, and giving them a business card for his bar - as well as a clear invitation for them to visit for a chance to talk again.

They'd shown up chatting merrily with his ex, clearly _very good friends_. Both had lit up upon seeing him - Shea with clear joy, and his ex with mischief.

Mischief that was becoming more and more pronounced as Muffet waited to get a word in edgewise around Shea's flatteringly enthusiastic compliments on his bar.

 

. . . Oh **hell** , they were dating.


	12. Necessity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes that's all there is anymore. Necessity.

Once, out of love he would have done anything to solve the anger in her eyes. 

Once, out of love he would have done anything to help her.

The love is still there.

But he's just _so tired._

And so Asgore sits, and waits as Toriel yells and rants at him. He's not mentally blocking her out - he's listening - and waits for her to finish. Each point is heard, and absorbed, and not rebutted. He waits for her to finish. Or to start repeating herself, which she does.

Clearly infuriated by his subdued or outright lack of a response. But he just does not have the energy to react much at all, endless speeches and political nuances wheeling through his head even now, on the day off he had fought long and hard for. That he had bargained and maneuvered for. That . . instead of relaxing, and recuperating on, he sent out the request to meet with Toriel. And now sits in front of her.

As her words circle, Asgore slowly sits up, reaching for and securing his mug of tea in his hands. It's technically a soup mug, but it fits comfortably in his hand and it holds a satisfying amount of tea - black tea. Tea for energy, and not just enjoyment.

He hasn't had Golden Flower tea in _years_ now.

"Toriel."  
Is it how he says her name? Firm and distant and just tired? Whatever it is, she cuts herself off, and stares a few seconds before speaking. "What do you _want_ , Asgore?"

He can see there's very little of her patience left. Hopefully ~~when did he last have energy to hope?~~ there's enough to hear him out.  
"There's nothing that I want. What I _need_ is help. Help in this political maneuvering for our people."

"Asgore I left-"  
He held up his hand, asking for a moment - and to a faint flicker of surprise on his part, Toriel fell silent again. The rest of him was just wearily thankful for it.  
"Yes, you left. But many of our subjects still view you as our Queen, and Toriel . . I simply _can not handle it all alone_. I am not asking for another chance, I am not asking for anything related to our relationship other than courtesy while we are in public. But I am _not good_ at this level of political maneuvering, and I have never been more aware of that after these last eight years. I have done my best, and I will continue to do so, but I . . Toriel, I do not have the reserves left to keep struggling this way. I have not had a full night's rest in years, it seems unlikely I will in the years to come. I **know** things are slipping past me."

As his hand dropped, Asgore gave the former love of his life ~~lies, she still was~~ complete honesty, showing just how worn down he was.  
"I cannot do this struggle alone anymore."


	13. Rollin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes knowledge leads to unexpected results. And great self-empowerment!

Papyrus paused, studying his reflection carefully. He looked _fantastic_ , he knew - but this approach had proven tricky before, and he didn't want to falsely mislead anybody at the event as to what to expect. The dress was quite short, and off the shoulder - the sleeves covered his arms, and part of the backs of his hands. The fabric was black with _just_ the right of sparkle to compliment the white of his clean bones, the orange swirls subtly woven into the fabric pattern just enough to notice and lighten the starkness of the look. With a thoughtful hum, he turned sideways to study the fit. Perfection, especially with his new flame-patterned knee-length high-heeled sneakers!

"HMMM . . . SOMETHING IS MISSING." Frowning slightly, he stepped back from the mirror to strike a pose, looking at his outfit as a whole. And snapped his fingers. "THAT'S IT!"

With a few 'tsks' at his own forgetfulness, Papyrus dug through the small chest on his dresser, quickly contemplating and discarding options. The little thrifted chest was lovingly hand-painted in a design reminiscent of his beloved battle body, with the symbol right smack dab in the middle of the lid. There had been a mirror there originally, which he'd found utterly useless. Lifting his find from the tangle of cords and straps, Papyrus moved to flip the lid shut - and paused, tracing the engraved symbol with light phalanges one more time. Really, his brother could run a business selling off his works, if he ever gathered himself enough to actually try to sell it.

Quickly fastening the choker into place, Papyrus fiddled with the charm until it showed properly, displaying the stripes of color and the symbol in the middle. It didn't exactly match the rest of his outfit, but it did look good and would cut down on confusion at the event. Pausing, he considered the look . . and dove back for the chest, quickly fishing out several of his collection of bangles to add, and a few loop-on charms for his sneakers. Relacing them always took time, but the finished look? _So worth it._

Grinning, he snatched his specially monogrammed 'cool dude' purse - calling it anything other than what it was? Height of stupidity, in his opinion. It held his wallet, cash, IDs, condoms, dental dams, nitrile gloves, and makeup removing wipes. It was a **purse** \- and launched himself out of his room. Shutting the door behind himself, he happily hummed to himself as he jogged down the stairs. Moving in heels was far less difficult than he'd ever thought, two years ago. "SANS! I WILL BE OUT LATE TONIGHT! HELEN HAS PROMISED IT TO BE A 'JOYOUS' NIGHT AT THE INDUSTRY."

Downstairs, Sans didn't even look up from where he was watching the TV, sprawled over the couch. Especially when his no-longer-little brother followed up his announcement (and pose) with a giddily wicked giggle. With a groan, the older brother shifted to sit up, pulling out a notebook from his pocket. " . . right. that's the one down on fifth and salvadore?"

"INDEED! THEY MAKE SOME OF THE BEST MOSCOW MULES IN TOWN."

Flipping a few pages, Sans checked over his notes then nodded. Finally looking up at his brother, he gave the taller skeleton a lopsided but sincere smile. His little brother was having _fun_ , even if it was in a way that still made his hackles prick up with the urge to protect Paps' now mostly-nonexistent innocence. He wasn't going to get in the way of that . . but at least this helped, the whole check-in routine they'd developed together. Trying to relax, Sans gave Papyrus a thumbs up. "lookin' good bro. any other friends going?"

Which was Sans-speak for 'anybody else whose butt I might need to haul out of the fire?', as Papyrus well knew. Posing with a hand on his hip, he tapped out a pattern on his purse, thinking over what Helen had said. "I THINK POSSIBLY ANDY, AND SAM MIGHT BE STOPPING BY. OH, UNDYNE SAID SHE WAS GOING TO JOIN US FOR A FEW HOURS, SINCE ALPHYS IS OUT OF TOWN."

"cool." Sans flipped the notebook to another page, and quickly noted down the names as Papyrus started double-checking he had all his supplies. The routine was soothing, settling the prickling unease that burbled constantly in the back of his mind down to almost nothing. " . . i heard mettaton was back in town."

Papyrus finished his check before looking up. "REALLY?! OH! THAT IS EXCITING! I SHOULD TEXT HIM LATER AND SEE IF HE WOULD LIKE TO HANG OUT WITH US AT THE CLUB! I COULD EVEN HAVE A CHANCE TO ASK ABOUT HIS LATEST MOVIES!"

With a happy little dance, Papyrus headed for the door, giving his brother a wave. "BUT IF NOT, MAYBE SOME OTHER TIME, IF YOU'RE OKAY WITH HIM COMING OVER?" "sure paps. just let me know ahead of time, okay?" "WILL DO! HAVE A GOOD EVENING BROTHER! ALSO, I WON'T BE BRINGING ANYBODY HOME THIS TIME! I THINK."

"you too bro. i'll get my headphones out just in case." "THANK YOU BROTHER! AND NOW, THE CLUB AWAITS THE GREAT PAPYRUS EAGERLY!"

As the door slammed behind the whirlwind that was Papyrus, Sans chuckled softly - and just a bit wistfully. He could remember back in the Underground . . Papyrus had even more energy, along with a streak of blatant naivete. Or had at least acted like he did. The dark thought echoed through Sans's skull, and it took some effort for him to shove it aside. They'd come too far to let that linger, and it wouldn't be good for him to dwell on how little they had truly communicated down there. Things were better, the sun was shining, and he had a Red Dwarf marathon starting in ten minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set loosely four and half years after barrier-breaking. A lot of things have happened in the skeleton bro's lives to bring them to this point.
> 
> I know I'm several days late on this! I will be producing more shorts per day for a bit!


	14. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A direct tie-in to Irresponsible Dimensional Alignment! The Reader sits the skelebros down for some frank talk, after finding about how utterly unable Sans was to talk about . . certain things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible triggers?
> 
> Frank discussion of:  
> -Sexuality  
> -Reproductive functions  
> -Gender

You'd gathered all the _good_ textbooks/educational graphic novels, put out a pitcher of water, cups, and set up a set of colored cards before each of the other two seats at the table. Sans was quietly squirming, blue sweat slowly dripping down his skull, while Papyrus . . . he looked somewhere between determined and utterly confused. Thankfully, by now you had some practice at this lecture - even if you had never expected to give this lecture to college students, it had proved prudent in the last six years.

Oh dear heavens it had proved downright **necessary**.

And now it was in a whole new way. Setting your rump down on the opposite side of the table with a heavy sigh, you studied the two of them for a long moment. " . . . Sans, I _really_ expected better of you about this. But it'd be . . enh, _something_ of me to scold you, considering I had to hunt down this information on my own due to how utterly horribly our country's sex education programs are. Even in this goofball county."

Sans shrunk into his hoodie a bit, flushing a deep blue as his eyelights went out briefly. " . . . i don't like thinkin' about it. at all."

You quirked an eyebrow at that (thank you Spock for making that little bit of expression common) and studied the shorter contemplatively. "This might be more useful for you than I thought. Ah- please, Papyrus, save questions for the actual lecture."

The taller skeleton subsided, frowning a little as he looked at you. "I THOUGHT THIS WAS TO EXPLAIN WHAT THAT LADY MEANT BY 'WANTING TO CLIMB ME LIKE A MOUNTAIN'?"

"And it will - that was an euphemism being used to proposition you for sex. Right!" You gestured to the cards in front of them, laid out in a square and cutting off another almost-question from Papyrus. "The cards in front of you are to let _me_ know when something is making you uncomfortable. The green is for 'I am uncomfortable, but keep going'. The yellow is 'slow down, I need a pause to absorb that', while the orange is 'I am **very uncomfortable** and I need less detail'. The red is 'I need this to stop right now for five minutes' - Sans, put that down, you both need at least the basics."

Sullenly Sans put the red card back down. You tried to give him a firm but reassuring look. "Seriously, I don't want either of you accidentally agreeing to something you have no idea is being referred to. And to know for certain what you're saying 'no' to is what you think it is." 

That last bit clearly caught Sans' attention, to judge by the frown he's throwing your way. You hold one of your hands out towards the books. "Unfortunately, because of the _very prudish_ influence of the original founders - and the knee-jerk overreaction to wave the freak flag high as a form of self-confirmation - a lot of slang has developed around sex, and acts that can be but aren't always sexual. And there's a lot of . . inference rather than outright statements of intent. Like that phrase earlier, Papyrus." 

Some of the confusion in the taller skeleton's expression cleared up, and his eye sockets almost sparkled with intrigue - why did he have to be _so cute_? Positively adorable, like so many of the young teens that toured your home as an option for their college years. It left you with a warm fuzzy feeling to be able to 'aunt' them through that tough first year. 

But almost all of them had to have this talk, and it was time for the nitty-gritty details. Without further ado, you flipped open the two medical texts to the full, naked human diagrams. "Right, here we have the two typical genital diagrams - the majority of humans will have one or the other, but there are exceptions." 

Both skeletons were blushing brightly, although Papyrus's was fading as he studied the diagrams. And frowned slightly. "YOU SAID THE MAJORITY? WHAT IS THE EXCEPTION?" 

>"You know how humans are made out of physical stuff? Well, that means the instructions - our DNA, our genetic instructions that say, blue eyes, or green, or brown hair, or this or that height - are _insanely complex_. Yes, I'm over simplifying, but this genuinely is the best way to put it unless you want this talk to take days. All humans are a combination of DNA from each of their parents - the one with one type of genitals, and the one with the other. The problem is the instructions are _so complex_ that sometimes errors happen. So sometimes the genitals don't move past a version of the intermediary stage of development, or something is missing, or just not shaped right . . . like too small to function for the purpose, or unable to function at all." 

"BUT-" 

"Papyrus, the idea of genital surgery is a giant can of worms I'll happily help you with later, but I really want to give you the basics on- thank you for using your card, Sans. We can take a few minutes." As you reached for the pitcher, an idea occurred to you. "In fact, Papyrus - why don't you go get a pad of paper and a pencil. You can write down your specific questions, and I can show you where to look to research them later." 

You ignored the strangled noise Sans made. But you did pour him a cup of water as well, gently nudging it into easy reach. 

The reprieve only lasted as long as it took for Papyrus to retrieve the notebook, but it seemed to be enough for Sans to return from Hoodie Town. His eyelights were near pinpricks as he stared at you with a mix of horror and wariness. You ignored that, instead pointing back to the book. "Right, so these are the two basic types of genitals - and seriously, if someone else has something a bit different, that's just what they have - and thank heavens of late we've finally started to not link social roles to one or the other. Used to be if you had an innie, you were female in the eyes of society, with all the restrictions that had. And if you had an outie, you were male, stuck with all the expectations and restrictions of that role. And everybody was stuck with being one or the other." 

Glancing up to judge how they were doing, you were a bit surprised to see they looked . . . utterly floored? Completely stunned? Disgust or dismay crinkled up Sans' face for a long span of seconds, before he abruptly blurted out his thoughts. "what the **hell**? why would they do that and ignore what people _are_?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe part 1 of a few . . ? There's a lot of topics that could be covered, but I don't have the best grasp on how to write this sort of conversation. Or writing Papyrus. :/


	15. Debts and Favors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, how does such a vanilla campfire have more jail time than he and his bro combined?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Undertale Grillby - Grillbert  
> UnderFell Grillby - Ignis  
> Undertale Sans - Indie  
> Underfell Sans - Crim

If it weren't for the fact he was staring through the bars _right at him_ , Crim would never believe it. As it was, he had problems believing his own eyesockets. 

Beside him, Indie's grin was steadily growing as he rocked on his heels, in no rush to cue the bored cop nearby to unlock the bars. In the cell, Grillbert rolled his eyes and primly folded his arms. ~~He was totally ignoring Ignis's growing flush, that hungry look in his eyes as took in the sight of Grillbert in jail~~ After a few moments, he asked dryly, " . . . get the door . . . or I'm . . . doubling your tab."

Indie audibly whined at that. "c'mon grillbz . . . i've already paid off half of it with how often this happens!"

Grillbert just stared at the shorter skeleton, his glare cold. Indie wilted, before sighing and looking up at the cop. "right, i'm paying the bail - might as well let him out officer jenny."

"You are so fucking lucky I like you, Sans - Indie." The cop deadpanned, not even bothering to point at the name under her badge. Crim could easily see it said 'David Jenners'. Humans were weird. Still there was something relaxed to her stance now, as she moved to unlock the overnight holding cell. "Seriously, if you want to be helpful, maybe you can convince your friend to stop pissing Kowley off?"

" . . . kowley . . . is an . . . asshole." Grillbert inserted from the cell, not moving just yet to leave. No point in startling the cops, this was just another turn on this particular Ferris wheel of life. Indie shrugged helplessly, completely ignoring how Crim was gawking back and forth between the three of them. It was even easier to ignore the expression on Ignis's face.

" . . holy fuck. how the hell does the _fucking campfire_ get himself arrested?"

"The _campfire_ in question," Oh, Jenner sounded way too amused by that nickname. "has a tendency to eat every fine issued to him."

" . . just kowley's." Grillbert put in from the cell. Only Ignis paid him any attention though. 

" . . . holy fuck."

"yeah, ain't he a hoot? hey grillbz, ya ready to go?"

" . . . . Jenny? . . am I . . . clear to go?"

Jenner waved her hand, mock-exasperated. "Yeah yeah, get your butt out of here."

As the group headed out, Jenner laughed quietly, listening to them squabble amongst themselves.

"seriously, is this why he has a tab?"

"nah, grillbz and i go way back."

" . . . no, but . . . it goes . . . to paying off . . .his tab."

"can i have a tab?"

" . . you willing . . to post . . bail?"

_"fuck."_

" . . hands off . . . my ass . . . Ignis."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this weird little ramble.


End file.
